


Lebron James and Butterscotch Cookies

by KhakiAnnie



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 18:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8725918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KhakiAnnie/pseuds/KhakiAnnie
Summary: “Yeah, Kaner, this is great!” Sam lies and fakes a smile. He doesn't give a shit about basketball. He's here because Pat asked him to come. He's here because the Oilers play the Hawks tomorrow, and they had a free night in Chicago. He's here because he's stupidly in love with his best friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, So I don't normally like to write or read anything that involves Kaner or Tazer with anyone other than each other. However, Sam is having such a great season in Columbus so far, and I wanted to reward him. Also, if Kaner is ever going to step out on his OTP with Tazer, it would totally be with Sam! 
> 
> I owe everything to this girl [leyley09](http://archiveofourown.org/users/leyley09/pseuds/leyley09) She is amazing and has been so helpful and encouraging with this fic and all the other ones I have going on. I just hope she loves this one as much as I do :D Sometimes she gives me these incredible compliments, and it blows my mind. Go read her works! They are great!
> 
> This fic was born solely due to [this picture of Sam looking extremely uncomfortable next to Pat at the Bulls game](https://www.google.com/search?q=patrick+kane+bulls+game&rlz=1CDGOYI_enUS705US705&hl=en-US&prmd=nvi&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwji7beEiNXQAhXp8YMKHRXmBbEQ_AUICSgD&biw=375&bih=591&dpr=2#imgrc=9KbFaGWgVN0BsM%3A)

“Isn't this awesome, dude?” Pat asks him with that huge stupid smile on his face. The one where his eyes sparkle and his dimples look like they are going to break his face apart, with his pink tongue pushed up against the back of his teeth so it bubbles out of the gap between his top and bottom teeth. You know that smile? The one that ruins your whole fucking life, Sam thinks.

 

“You havin’ a good time, Sammy?” Pat asks him, raising his eyebrows up until they almost reach the edge of his Bulls hat, turned around backwards like a frat boy brat. 

 

“Yeah, Kaner, this is great!” Sam lies and fakes a smile. He doesn't give a shit about basketball. He's here because Pat asked him to come. He's here because the Oilers play the Hawks tomorrow, and they had a free night in Chicago. He's here because he's stupidly in love with his best friend. 

 

Pat looks away, and Sam looks back out at the court. He's holding his arms across his lap, his phone and his coat, too. The stupid tv cameras have found Patrick. Everyone finds Patrick. He's so fucking beautiful and perfect. Sam frowns, and he looks straight ahead. He's hoping the people watching the game on tv can't see the way his dick is pathetically and achingly hard in his jeans. It's straining to break through his zipper and just wreck Pat. 

 

He is so hard he wants to ruin Pat right there, on the court. In front of God and Lebron James, who is currently beating the shit out of this awful Bulls’ team. He will push Pat against the back of that court side seat and shove his cock in between those pink plush lips and fuck his mouth until he is-

 

“What was that?” He asks Pat who is staring at his face? 

 

“I said, you wanna get outta here now and beat the traffic?” 

 

“Yeah, man,” Sam nervously licks his lips, “let's go.” 

 

Pat's eyes drop to Sam’s mouth and track the path of his tongue. Holy shit. He knows he didn't just imagine that. 

 

Sam watches as Pat stands up and stretches. His arms stretch back behind his head, broad shoulders popping in protest. He pushes his ass out, bubbling backwards in his tight jeans. One of Pat’s hands scratches the back of his head under the bill of that dumb hat. The fingers of that hand continue to rub around to the front of his neck, down his chest and sternum to the hem of the Bulls jersey. His fingers go underneath both shirts to rub a strip of skin above his waistband. Sam watches every single movement. He looks up and meets Pat’s eyes. 

 

Pat smiles, “you comin’?”

 

“Uh yeah...yeah let's, uhhh, let's go.” He says just as the refs are putting the ball back into play. 

 

They hurry up the aisle and the stairs and out to Pat’s ridiculous Hummer, only having to stop twice in the concourse for pictures and autographs. 

 

“She asked-” Pat giggles hysterically not able to talk through it, “she asked if you were my-” Pat is turning purple now. “MY COUSIN or something!” He’s got tears streaming from the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard. 

 

“Fuck you, Patrick! I can't help it if your teenage fangirls have no idea what a real hockey star looks like!” His voice echoes in the parking garage. 

 

“Oh my god, you wish, Gags!” Pat says as he slaps the back of his hand against Sam’s arm. 

 

They get to the Hummer, Pat still giggling on and off. They leave the parking garage heading towards Sam's hotel where the team is staying. On the way, Sam reminds Pat that he has to run up to the room when they get there and bring down the present his mom sent for Pat’s birthday. Pat hmm’s in acknowledgment. 

 

“You raid the minibar yet, Sammy?”

 

“Hell no! I haven't done that since we were kids, and we got bag skated for an hour while hungover, after we played Erie. You remember that, eh?”

 

“Oh my God, dude, that was awful. Plus, it cost a ridiculous amount of money. I thought my mom was gonna kill me when I told her what she owed coach.”

 

When they arrive at the hotel, Pat pulls into the parking garage to park. 

 

“Pat, I can just run up to the room quick. You don't have to park.” 

 

“I thought I'd come up with you.”

 

Oh fuck...

 

“Alright man, but I'm limiting myself to one drink.” Sam says laughing. “No way I'm playing the fucking Hawks with a hangover.” 

 

“Who said anything about drinks, Gags.” Pat says with a sleazy smile. 

 

Sam nervously huffs a laugh. 

 

The elevator ride up to the 5th floor is filled with quiet tension. Sam isn't sure what's going on here, but if it's nothing, he doesn't want to get it wrong. 

 

When they get to his room and Sam is unlocking the door, Pat waits behind him patiently, almost a little too close in a spacious hallway definitely big enough to accommodate two hockey players. 1 and ½ if anyone's really counting. 

 

Sam walks inside, turns the lights on, and heads straight to his suitcase, pulling out the neatly packaged sturdy box. When he turns around, Patrick is leaning against the back of the door with his feet crossed and his hands behind his lower back. He looks gorgeous. 

 

Sam swallows, throat clicking. He holds the box out and looks at Pat and then the box. Pat pushes off from the door and saunters across the room towards Sam, his eyes never leaving Sam's face. 

 

“It's those, uhh, those butterscotch cookies you love so much, ya know?” Sam asks, popping the box open. Pat doesn't look in the box. Sam does, and then he nervously looks back at Pat. He's so close; the only thing separating them is the box of cookies. 

 

Pat grabs a cookie and takes a bite. Crumbs stick to his lips and the corner of his mouth. God, his mouth. He drops the cookie back in the box and pulls it from Sam’s hands. He drops it on the desk beside them, and surges up, grabbing both sides of Sam’s jaw. Sam closes his eyes, and his mouth parts on a silent yes.

 

Pat meets his lips in a filthy open-mouth kiss. Sam allows him to control it, unsure of exactly how much Pat will let him have. He gently bites Pat’s lower lip and sucks on it briefly, releasing it with a soft pop. He puts his hands on Pat's hips and pulls him against his own. 

 

Pat whines quietly and lays soft biting kisses along Sam’s jaw, up to his ear.

 

He murmurs against Sam’s ear, “Want me to go to my knees for you, Sammy? Hmm? You’ve been staring at my mouth all night. Is that what you want? Wanna put your dick in my mouth?” Pat doesn't wait for an answer; he just drops to his knees.

 

Sam’s already hard cock gushes out precome at Pat’s words. He dares to look down at Pat, who is nosing at the fly of his jeans with his fingers in the top of his waistband searching for the button. When Pat’s thumbs find it, he pops it and lowers the zipper. He licks his plush lips as he pulls Sam’s jeans down to mid thigh. Looking up at Sam, he licks up the length of his hard cock, still tucked inside his navy blue cotton boxers. He sucks at the wet spot near the head and groans.

 

Sam pulls the hem of his shirt up, revealing his rock hard abs and his happy trail, but has to look up and away, afraid he's gonna lose it already. 

 

Staring at the ceiling he exhales loudly, trying to find words, voice cracking, “Pat, fuck. Fuck, that feels good.” He looks back down at Pat, who is grinning at him in approval. Pat winks and teasingly bites his own lower lip. He licks the trail of hair leading from Sam’s pubic hair up to his belly button, precome wetting his cheek as he goes. 

 

Still staring in his eyes, Pat pulls Sam’s boxers down, just enough to reveal the head of his uncut cock. He moves down and pushes the foreskin back with his lips, closing his eyes now, and grabs the back of one of Sam's thighs with one hand and pulling his boxers the rest of the way down to his thighs with the other. Then he grasps the girth of Sam’s cock.

 

He takes the head back inside his mouth, sucking hard, and pulling back to tongue at the slit which keeps feeding him a steady stream of precome. Sam runs his fingers through Pat's curls and grasps gently, pulling his head slightly to the side so he can watch Pat’s mouth on his cock. It’s beautiful stretched around him like that. 

 

“Jesus, Patrick, I've always loved your mouth.” 

 

Pat pulls back and licks up the underside of his cock, twice, before taking him back in his mouth. 

 

Sam experimentally pumps his hips a few times, with Pat humming loudly in approval and grabbing both of Sam’s thighs encouraging him to fuck his mouth. Pat extends his jaw and opens his mouth wider, and Sam can feel his cock hitting the back of Pat’s throat. It’s perfect. 

 

“Fuck!” Sam says loudly, “you want more? Hmm?” 

 

“Mmmhmm” Pat hums. 

 

Sam thrusts his hips a few times, then pulls out and grabs his cock. He gently smacks Pat's lips with the head a few times, watching them swell and redden. 

 

“Up” Sam demands. 

 

Pat stands up and kisses Sam, who grasps his hips and walks backwards towards the bed. When his knees hit the back of the bed, he sits down, pulling Pat between his legs. He pulls his own shirt off, and leans forward to pull Pat's Bulls jersey and undershirt up, until they are under Pat’s arms. Pat pulls the shirts up and off his body, allowing Sam to kiss every inch of skin he reveals. 

 

“I wanna see your hard cock, Pat. I've wanted to forever.”

 

Pat, exhales through his nose and looks down at Sam fondly, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper down. He toes out of his shoes, and pulls his jeans and boxers off, then his socks. He stands up and pulls on his dick a few times, clearly showing off. 

 

“Well?” He asks, eyebrows raised. 

 

“You're beautiful. C’mere.”

 

Pat goes, and Sam scoots up the bed, lifting his hips to pull his pants and boxers off. As Pat crawls up, he stops to pull Sam’s socks off. “Uh uh. You are not leaving these on, dork.” 

 

Pat tickles the bottom of his foot, and Sam giggles, pulling it away. “Knock it off and get up here, Patrick.” 

 

Pat crawls on his hands and knees up until he is straddling Sam’s hips. He leans down and licks into Sam’s mouth, dirty and hot as fuck. Sam thrusts upwards, rubbing his cock against the crack of his ass, just grazing his hole. Pat moans, spilling precome onto Sam’s belly. 

 

Hissing through his teeth, Pat says against Sam’s mouth, “so.” He pauses to kiss him, “will you fuck me, Sammy?” 

 

Sam groans loudly and presses his cock against Pat's hole, pulling his ass cheeks apart. “Is that what you want, birthday boy?” 

 

Pat smiles, “more than I want those cookies.” 

 

“Let me up,” Sam laughs and tells him, slapping his ass. 

 

Pat rolls off of him, onto his back, and spreads his thighs wide, stroking his cock. 

 

“You're such a fuckin’ showoff, Kaner.” He says laughing as he is looking for his duffle bag. 

 

Pat pops two fingers from his right hand into his mouth, getting them wet. He strokes his cock with his left hand and reaches down with his right hand, teasing his hole with the wet fingers.

 

Sam stops looking for his duffle bag. He can't miss this, he thinks, as Pat pushes his middle finger inside his hole and throws his head back, moaning. 

 

Sam’s gotta find the bag, quickly. 

 

When he does find it, he locates his bottle of lube and a condom, crawling back up the bed, as Pat continues pushing his fingers in and out, while stroking his cock. 

 

Sam pops the top on the lube and slicks his fingers. He places one of them next to the ones in Pat's hole and pushes in. 

 

“Ohhh fuck!” Pat shouts. 

 

Sam puts in a second, and Pat’s cock leaks. 

 

“Come on, Gags.” He says, looking down at him, “I'm ready. Come on.”

 

Sam opens the condom and rolls it down his cock. As Pat goes to roll over to his stomach, Sam stops him. “Like this, Pat. I wanna see your face. Please.” 

 

“Ok, Sammy.” Pat answers, kissing him. 

 

Sam slides in, slowly, as Pat breathes louder and louder with each inch sliding in. When Sam's hips meet Pat's ass, he slowly pulls back out until just the head remains. He is watching, fascinated, where they are joined. “God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this.”

 

“I didn't know, Gags. I didn't know.” 

 

Sam starts thrusting harder now, as Pat’s moans increase each time he bottoms out. His legs are wrapped around Sam’s waist, and his hands are clutching at Sam's neck. 

 

He wonders if Peaches can hear in the room next door and realizes he doesn't give a shit. Pat is so loud, and he doesn’t want to shut him up because it’s perfect. 

 

The head of Pat's cock is leaking and angry red, now. The flush on his chest and neck matching the red of his cock. Sam leans down and licks Pat's nipple and nips his collarbone. 

 

“Shit, Sammy, I'm gonna come. Fuck I'm gonna come.”

 

“Touch yourself, Pat, show me. I wanna see you come.” 

 

Pat grabs his cock, stroking up and down and rubbing just under the head. His other hand is twisting in the sheets. “Fuck, Sammy, fuck. Harder,” Pat pleads.

 

Sam pounds in; their skin is slapping together. He's trying to hold himself together, desperately waiting for him, when Pat shouts and come shoots up his belly and chest. He's panting heavily, still pulling at his cock. One of his hands come up and grab Sam's neck, pulling him down into a kiss. Sam thrusts once, twice, and comes with Pat’s name on his lips between them. 

 

After kissing for what feels like several minutes, Sam grabs the base of the condom and pulls out of Pat before he gets too soft. He falls to the side and rolls onto his back. He reaches down and pulls the condom off, tying it and reluctantly gets up off the bed. He walks to the bathroom to throw it away, and when he comes back out, Pat has rolled on his side and is watching him, intently.

 

“You staying?” 

 

“I'd love to stay and do this again in the morning, Sammy, but I can't be sleeping with the enemy.” He gets up off the bed and starts to gather his clothes. 

 

“Yeah, wouldn't want you to look slow out there tomorrow when we are kicking your ass.” 

 

“Ok, Gags,” Pat says as he pulls his jeans up. Pat finds Sam’s boxers on the floor by his socks, and as Sam is watching, Pat wipes the come off his belly and chest with the boxers. 

 

“Dammit, Kaner. You're gross,” he laughs as he tackles Pat backwards on the bed. They kiss a little longer but stop before it leads to more.

 

When he is dressed, he grabs his box of cookies off the desk. “I love you, but I’m not leaving my cookies here.”

 

“I love you, too. Can we--can we maybe do this again, Pat?” he dares to ask.

 

“Yeah, Sammy. Yes. But right now I gotta go.” 

 

“I know. You need your rest for your ass kicking tomorrow.”

 

“Whatever, Gags. You score a goal, and I’ll suck your dick right there at center ice.”

 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Kaner.” Sam jokes back. 

 

The next evening, in front of a sold out crowd at the United Center, Sam scored 4 goals and had 4 assists, making him the 13th player of all time to score 8 or more points in a single game. He was also the first to receive a blowjob at center ice by the star right wing of the opposing team...well maybe that last part was just in his dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> I took liberties with the time frame of Sam's 8 point night in relation to Patrick's November birthday.
> 
> Thanks for reading and feel free to comment! I love the feedback!!


End file.
